


Actual Christmas, and After

by marginaliana



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had discovered – three months into what was rapidly becoming the best relationship of Q's life – that they liked getting each other presents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Actual Christmas, and After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhoenixFalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/gifts).



Because this was MI-6, they spent actual Christmas dealing with a sudden outbreak of terrorists.

Q was on his way back from the kitchenette to his workshop with a fresh mug of tea when Tanner and Eve appeared, trailing Bond behind them. Allegedly Q had been working on the prototype for a new electrocution ring – but to be honest, he'd mainly been thinking about Eve, about the last time they'd been together, about the way she had slipped one of his old, ratty jumpers on and let it hang oh-so-artfully off her shoulder as she turned her head and gave him her best come hither look.

The look Eve gave him then, as she came into the hallway, told him it was probably obvious where his mind had been. She didn't comment, though, just handed him the tablet she'd been carrying. ″Can you make anything of this?″ she said. ″Bond brought it in just now, got it off someone that may or may not have been affiliated with SPECTRE. Apparently the words 'air traffic control' were uttered.″

″Worst present ever,″ Q informed her, waggling the tablet. Tanner looked vaguely scandalized and Bond just smirked, but Eve had that faint little smile on her face that said she was actually amused and not just pretending to be.

They had discovered – three months into what was rapidly becoming the best relationship of Q's life – that they liked getting each other presents. Sometimes they were purchased things, traditional gifts like a new scarf for Q (so soft that he kept finding himself running his fingers over it) or jewelry for Eve. Other times they were small things, cups of tea in hurried moments or caramels tucked away in a coat pocket or a purse. 

Because they were _them_ , it had turned into a bit of a competition. So far Q was winning, since Eve had yet to discover anything that topped his presentation of last minute tickets to a show she'd missed three times due to various work disasters. 

″All right,″ Q said, leading them into the workshop and abandoning his tea on the nearest table. He powered up the tablet, leaving it unconnected for the moment. A lock screen came on, and he went by rote through the usual tricks to bypass the password. Fifteen seconds later he was in, and the first thing he saw was a countdown. 

It had seventy six minutes left on it.

\-----

Afterwards, when all twenty two of the dangerous idiots had been neutralized by Bond (several of them permanently) and their technology acquired for further inspection, Q let himself be ferried home by someone from the motor pool. By then he had been awake for a day and a half and was probably seventy six percent tea by volume.

He staggered into his flat, laid down on the sofa, and slept for thirteen hours.

\-----

When he woke, there was a text from Eve. 'Still alive?' 

Q went and splashed some water on his face before answering, but eventually sent, 'Unless the afterlife looks surprisingly like an uncleaned flat, yes.'

Her reply came quickly. 'Ready for some company?'

'Is it Santa Claus?' Q sent back, and then, after a moment, 'Or, I suppose if it were you, that would be all right as well.'

'Prat. Put some nice clothes on and I'll be there in an hour,' Eve sent. 'And by the way... I've got something for you.'

\-----

An hour was time enough for Q to hastily tidy, shower, and dress, but not quite enough to erase the pillow marks on his face. He was still scrubbing at them when the knock came at the door. Q touched his face again, sighed, and went to answer it.

Eve was there, all dolled up in something slinky – god, she looked amazing as always – but to his surprise, she wasn't alone. It was Bond. For a brief second Q panicked that there had been further developments, some loose end that they hadn't managed to tie up. But then he looked, really looked at Bond, noting the impeccably-pressed trousers, the bottle of wine clasped just a little too tightly in one hand, the tentative smile on his face. 

_Oh_.

They'd talked about this, of course, over a couple of apocalyptically-good late nights fresh off the end of Bond's latest mission (it had involved three days on the beach in a tiny swimsuit, which, yeah). They'd even discussed ways to make it a reality, though Q hadn't quite been reckless enough to go for it, not yet. He should have known that Eve would be the braver of the two of them. 

He realized abruptly that he was still staring. Bond – no, it would be _James_ , wouldn't it, at a time like this? – was shifting his weight, just the tiniest bit, a faint betrayal of something that looked almost like nerves. It was something of a rush to see him unsure, especially given how many times Q had listened in on Bond's relentlessly-suave sexual encounters with various and sundry. He kind of wanted to keep that look on James' face.

But then again, this was Christmas.

″Come in,″ Q said, his throat gone dry. James' face barely changed, but somehow his expression went from careful to pleased. Eve just managed to look even more smug than she had already.

Q stepped back and held the door open. As they went past him – Eve smelling of citrus and James of clove – he thought about the gift he'd bought for her, wrapped carefully and sitting on one corner of the coffee table. Frankly, he might as well have just gone for a box of Quality Street from the bargain bin at Tesco's for all the competition it would prove. Because this? How the hell was he ever going to beat this?

″I'll just pop this open, shall I?″ said James. He disappeared into the kitchen. Q could hear him rummaging around in the drawers, but he couldn't take his eyes off Eve, who had cocked a hip at him and was raising one eyebrow in inquiry. 

Q was grinning, couldn't help himself. He crossed the two feet between them and kissed her, deep and fierce and glad. When he pulled away, they were both breathing hard.

″Best present ever?″ Eve said.

″Yeah, all right, fuck it,″ Q said. ″You win. You win.″


End file.
